Miracle
by Chikorita-Trainer1
Summary: Bruce explains to Damian the irony of a man devoted to fighting crime, who, every night, commits the crime of child-endangerment.


**Miracle**

Chikorita-Trainer1

K

Disclaimer: I don't own Batman.

 **Author's note:** Can't sleep at night, inspired to write. This might come off as sappy and pretentious, but it's written from the heart. I hope you like it.

* * *

Father is not in the Cave, which is odd. Pennyworth is asleep, and I don't wish to bother him by asking. The Batmobile is parked, my father's costume is hung up, so he is not out on patrol. Where could he be?

The house is enormous, and to go searching from room to room would take hours. Yet I am not the detective my father is, so I suppose that is my only option.

He's not in his room.

He's not in Grayson's room. Neither Drake's nor Todd's. There are only so many significant locations in this house. The study, his parents' room. The library, perhaps? But none of these rooms yield an answer.

It is only by chance that I happen upon him, in the largest den in the manor. I wouldn't notice, except that the moonlight creates a shadow of a chair that stretches across the floor, and tonight, the shadow is a lot longer, because he is sitting in said chair. The large floor-to-ceiling window overlooks the gardens. At first I wonder if he has fallen asleep sitting up, but I quickly cast the possibility aside. It is far more likely he came here to find solitude and peace while he thinks.

I approach him silently, waiting for him to acknowledge me. I'm sure he felt my presence even before I set foot in the room- he's just that good. What could he be pondering this late at night, that couldn't be pondered in the Cave?

"Father?" I ask.

"Yeah?" he sighs, not even looking at me.

"Are you alright?"

"Yeah," he says. "I'm just not sure about some things."

"What things?"

He turns his head towards me and extends his right arm, beckoning me. I walk over to him and he scoots over a little on the large chair, gently pulling me down beside him.

"I've just been thinking about the irony," he says. I don't ask him what he means; I trust he'll finish that sentence soon enough. "My job, both as a father and as Batman, means I'm a protector. A protector of my children, and of innocents in the city."

I remain silent. Asking him things like "What do you mean?" and "What are you talking about?" will only derail his thoughts, and it isn't often that my father is this intimate with me. Or anyone.

"Damian, by all accounts, you should NOT be Robin," he sighs. My eyebrows leap to the top of my forehead and the corners of my mouth thrust themselves downward. Is he firing me?

"There's nothing wrong with you, of course," he reassures me. "It's just, I can't stop thinking about how…you're a child."

"And…point?" I cannot resist asking, snark and annoyance in my tone.

"I've devoted my life to stopping crime, and yet, every night, I commit a crime."

I'm really not sure what he's going to say. So I just wait.

"Child Endangerment is a crime, Damian. And every night I take you out there with me, to jump in front of bullets, to leap onto speeding cars, I'm committing a crime. And it's tearing me apart. Because I do want you out there with me. Your assistance is without peer, and even the public accepts and expects it. Batman and Robin, the Dynamic Duo. It's what we do. But I can't get it out of my head how it's a crime."

"Isn't being a vigilante, with or without a partner, a crime?" I ask.

"Technically, but the law accepts me," he answers. "And it's not just the judgment of people I worry about. It's from God."

"Huh?" I cry. I've never known my father to be a religious person. I mean, we celebrate Christmas in this house, but that's more of the Winter Solstice element. We never go to church or say our prayers or whatever.

"God. The universe. Whatever you believe in, has given me chance after chance that I can't possibly deserve," says Father. I relax. So that's what he meant; not God in a religious sense, just a "higher power."

"Damian, I've lost you. I've gotten you back. But why do I deserve that? Millions of parents lose children and they don't get them back. Why do I get all these chances? What makes me so special?" he asks. I would say "You're Batman," but I don't think he's actually looking for a real answer. He's just expressing how he feels, so I let him.

" _I'm so lucky,"_ he sighs, drawing me into his lap. _"I'm the luckiest man in the world."_

Now I'm getting a little weirded-out. After everything this man has been through, losing his parents, his friends, suffering his inability to find true love…he thinks he's lucky?

" _I have you boys. I have your love. It's the most precious thing I could ever hope to know,"_ he whispers into my hair. _"Growing up, I never thought I'd have children. I never thought I would have time for anything other than my mission. But I've been blessed. I'm truly blessed, with you and your brothers. And even though I've known them for longer, it honestly can't compare, Damian."_

"What can't compare?"

"You. My own flesh and blood. My own precious child. You probably won't understand until you have a child of your own, but it's truly the greatest thing on Earth. To have a child, to have love for the child. I can't imagine a stronger or more beautiful thing."

I almost want to ask if he's drunk, or on something. These words are so vulnerable, so corny, yet sincere.

"And I feel like I just keep spitting in the universe's face, every time I take you out there with me," he continues. "It feels like I'm just dangling you over a pit of lions, saying "come on, take him. I dare you." I put you in danger every night, and it's just… _how_ can I call myself a father? What kind of father does that; endangers their child every night, for his own, selfish mission?"

"Father, you are _not_ selfish," I insist. "And I WANT to be out there with you. You _know_ I do."

"I know," he says, cuddling me closer. "But that's another part of being a parent; even if your child thinks they want something, you still have to say no, because you know what's best for them. It's utterly illogical that I let you be Robin. It makes absolutely zero sense. Batman and Robin is an oxymoron in itself. A man who devotes his life to fighting crime, to protecting the innocent…is thrusting his child into danger every night. It just plain doesn't make sense."

"Maybe not, Father," I say, resting my head on his chest. "But you know I don't blame you when I get hurt."

"It's not up to you to blame anyone," he says. "In the eyes of the law, you are too young to make decisions like that. If anyone found out who we really are, and found out what Bruce Wayne is doing…I'd be thrown in jail forever. What self-righteous man, sworn to uphold the law, can knowingly allow his little boy to face these dangers alongside him?"

"I don't have the answers, Father," I say. "But we're not like other people. Maybe we're not above the law, but we've both been through more than the average people. The experiences I've had in life are not those of a normal child, so why should I be held to the norm?"

"Because you ARE a child, no matter what training you've had. A child is a child. And you have rights. You have the right to live in a safe, healthy environment. You have the right to an education. You have the right to live with parents who don't abuse you or endanger you. And with the rights you DO have, there are also rights you DON'T have. As a minor, you don't get to choose where you go at night. You don't get to choose not to go to school, or choose where to live. Every night I strip you of your rights, and put you into a role in where, as much freedom as you get, you're still being denied justice."

"What are you talking about?"

"Social Services could, theoretically, take Damian Wayne away from Bruce Wayne if they felt I was abusing or endangering you," he says. "They can't take Robin away from Batman, because as far as they know, we're not father and son."

"So what's the problem?"

"Bruce and Damian, Batman and Robin, are forever intertwined, and forever in flux," he explains. "It's an eternal gray area. Whatever I do as Batman is ambiguous, but you're still a child. And it's my responsibility to protect you and take care of you. And Batman doesn't, by definition, take good care of Robin."

Oh. So that's it. It's just plain old guilt. Well damn, he didn't have to drag it out like that.

" _I just want you to know, Damian,"_ he says softly. _"That you mean more to me than anything. More than Batman. More than justice. You remind me that I'm human. You remind me that I have the greatest ability any creature can have. Love. And if I couldn't love, how would I ever know right from wrong?"_

I sigh deeply, closing my eyes against him. No one has ever said anything like that to me. No one has ever told me that my mere existence was the greatest thing that ever was.

" _You are a miracle, Damian,"_ he whispers, kissing me on the head. _"My miracle."_

* * *

THE END  
Please review, thanks.


End file.
